


coffee shop soundtrack

by whothefuckletharudrive



Category: Free!, Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Aomine makes Rin join his streetball team, F/F, Fluff, Future Fish Au, Haruka has a shit self image, Hurt/Comfort, Kuroko is oblivious, M/M, Nagisa is a Little Shit, Sousuke has a sister for later reasons, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-03 14:55:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15821184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whothefuckletharudrive/pseuds/whothefuckletharudrive
Summary: Once away from the suffocating warmth of those green eyes, Haru notes his racing pulse and lets out a breath of air he didn’t know he’d been holding in. Finally, his racing heart has dulled, the sweat he broke out into has dried, and the electricity that ran through his arm just then has faded a little, but the aftershocks have yet to disappear completely.What the hell?Coffee Shop AU.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As you can see by the tags, I'm still trying to figure out how I want to tag this fic. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading the first part of "coffee shop soundtrack". Feel free to let me know if I can write the characters better or anything you'd like to discuss. Just send me an ask @ whothefuckletharudrive-writes on tumblr.

**One.**

**_Haruka_**

He considers himself lucky that his little café has been so successful in the last couple of months due to its grand opening. Lucky because he doesn’t believe that wishful thinking does anyone any good.

At six thirty in the morning, Nanase Haru stands behind the counter of his cozy, quaint café. From where he stands, Haru takes a moment to take in the shop he opened in Tokyo only months ago. Ash wooden tables are spread throughout the open space while booths sit by the wall closest to the bar with the seats covered in a navy material that accents the light grey paint Haru used the top half of the wall throughout the café. The navy material covering the booths match the bar stools, and grey paint even out the white brick bottom half of the wall that meets the glossy, charcoal floors that Haru has just swept. The bar itself allows him to see almost everything at once.

In the kitchen, there’s a huge stainless steel sink that’s positioned between smooth, black counters. On the surface of these counters sit the many different machines used to make the drinks listed on the chalkboard that hangs over the bar and the register. However, behind the register, there is a large, rustic barn door pulled across the entire width of the kitchen, hiding it from a customer’s view. He sighs and supposes that he should push it back into its place in the wall before it’s time to open for the day. Of all the things he’s glad he had built in this café, the barn door is one of his favorites. On the days that his social anxiety is particularly bad, he can simply lift the small square of the adjustable black counter at will and pull the barn door out about two fifths of the way and work behind it without raising any eyebrows with any of his customers or bothering any of his employees with his personal issues. It’s a win on both ends in his mind. Originally its use was only to pull across the kitchen, to hide the back, thereby only leaving the register and bar visible at night, but Haru does use it to his advantage.

After he unlocks the barn doors, his eyes glance at the glass door on which the ‘closed’ sign hangs and sways a little as the early, fall air whistles by, and he likes how open the front of the shop is. All glass with no panes. Just a clear view from the corner of the street where one can see the other side of the street in through the glass on the left side of the door and Haru’s favorite part: the view of the ocean on the right side of the storefront’s curve.

The sun begins to peek over the horizon and catches the water’s glistening surface perfectly. Other people may have pressed the button beside the light switch to automatically block out the sun with the grey curtains that remain rolled at the top of the ceiling, but Haru loves to watch the sunrise every morning and set every evening. Tearing his eyes away from the view of the water, Haru glances back at the stairs that lead down from his flat. They’re hidden and tucked away in a corner behind the bar that sometimes even he forgets about during the day, but he has gladly welcomed how close his home is especially after tiring days.

Haru’s eyes flit to the clock that hangs on the half of the right side wall that isn’t clear glass.

 _6:39_.

The first shift should be arriving in the next six minutes before the café opens at six.

“Haru-chan!”

Dammit, he thought he’d have more time to enjoy the silence he cherished in the early mornings.

Hazuki Nagisa is known to be one thing by everyone: loud as hell. Along with his loud and eardrum-rattling voice, he’s quite the positive, spritely waiter. Haru and Nagisa have known one another since grade school and despite being the polar opposite of each other, have to build a lasting friendship over the years.  

“Nagisa-kun, you know Haruka-senpai likes the time before the café opens to be quiet.” Chides the familiar voice of Ryūgazaki Rei.

“But, Rei-chan,” Nagisa’s child-like voice bemoans. “The mornings are supposed to be bright! I mean, the sun’s just come up! So it’s the perfect time to start the day off with optimism!”

As the bantering behind him continues, Haru’s teeth begin to gnaw on the inside of his cheek. He’d never admit to it if someone were to ever accuse him of it, but sometimes, he gets lonely. Mind you, Haru likes his solitude and enjoys the time he spends soaking in his tub, but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t wish for some semblance of companionship that extends beyond a close friendship. Rei and Nagisa have been together for years now and somehow, Rei has managed to keep up with the hyperactive, enthusiastic person that Nagisa is and even managed to tame the little beast. They’re not alike in any way, shape, or form, but they love each other regardless. Haru’s always admired the silently been very thankful for Rei and specifically his ability to get Nagisa to mature slowly. Until recently, when he accidentally overheard one of his customers talking to each other in low voices towards the end of the bar, he’s never thought too much about being lonely.

Even as a child, Haru has always been quiet, introverted, and blunt; he doesn’t have any special way with words at all, and due to the fact that he doesn’t know how to properly say what he wants, he just says everything quickly. It’s just the way he is. Not once has Haru ever been concerned someone else’s opinion of him because he heard those whispers behind his back as well.

He vividly recalls their hushed voices and to this day he still wonders why they struck such a strong cord with him.

These customers weren’t any different than the other blank faces he’s served in his café before. He vaguely recalls that they were both younger girls who must have been third years in upper secondary school or first years at the university a couple blocks down the street.

_“Who owns this place anyway?” One had whispered._

_When her friend shrugged, she lifted her eyes to scan the room for an employee as Haru unloaded the dishwasher again. He’s surprised he heard them from that far back._

_“Is everything to your liking?” Rei’s voice asked, concerned. Haru guessed they had managed to wave Rei over to the bar on his way back from setting a customer’s order down._

_One of them hummed a very enthusiastic ‘yes’ before she said she had a quick question and asked whether it was inconvenient for him to possibly answer it then. Of course, Rei assured them that he could answer their question without hesitation._

_“Who owns this place? I heard that the owner is planning on opening another shop in a few months in another part of Tokyo.”_

_There’s the slightest pause before Rei answers as Haru continues to stack dishes on the wracks for easy access._

_“I have yet to hear Haruka-senpai announce plans to open another café in Tokyo or any other city for that matter,” Rei says replies, and Haru can just visualize him pushing up the damn red glasses up his nose. You think he’d get another pair after all these years._

_“Haruka,” One of the girls repeats. “Is she working today?”_

_“I’m sorry, miss, but you’re mistaken. Haruka-senpai is a man. But, yes, always. Haruka-senpai comes into work every day. Very rarely does he leave the shop in the care of his workers. It’s not because he doesn’t trust us, but for personal reasons.” There’s another pause and Haru thinks he hears someone from the back call for Rei. “If you’ll excuse me now, ladies, it appears I’m needed elsewhere. If you have any more questions, I’m sure the staff won’t mind answering them to the best of their abilities.” As Haru glances up, he watches as Rei comes up from a quick bow before walking away._

_He heard them whisper to each other about how one didn’t mean to misgender him before defending herself by saying that he does, in fact, have a very girly name._

_“Which one’s Haruka?”_

_“It’s not the little blonde one, he’s Nagisa. I remember because the last time I was here he got into…I guess it was an argument with that guy that just talked to us?” She sounded unsure but continued to talk anyway. “I don’t think it was serious. He was smiling and seemed to not care too much.”_

_As he begins to prepare a drink (one of those super complicated coffee recipes Nagisa must have dug up from the depths of the internet before posting it on the shop’s website), the girls rattle on about who they think Haruka could be. He hears them mention a couple of his employees by name and a few by description._

_Their conversation ends up boring him and he doesn’t pay any mind to them as he concocts the drinks Nagisa spouts out orders for until Nagisa actually gets dragged into their conversation. Instead of giving him drink orders from the register, Haru noticed that there was an abrupt break in customer orders._

_Apparently, while Nagisa waits–and doesn’t bother to help him make the twenty drinks he just called out–he decides to get nosey._

_“How’s everyone at the bar?” He asks them with a cheerful smile._

_He glanced up to watch Nagisa for a second and noted that they smiled widely back at him as they repeated basically the same thing as they had asked Rei just minutes ago._

_Nagisa starts talking and Haru shakes his head to himself a little. He went back to focusing on not messing up the orders. As he puts the last lid on one of the hot drinks and brings it out to the front for someone to take it to the correct table, Nagisa waves him over on his way back into his corner where he creates orders._

_“Haru-chan!” Nagisa cheered. “Is it true you’re opening a new café on the other side of the city? Why didn’t you tell me?! As one of your closest and most trusted–“_

Haru sighs inwardly.

_“Friends and employees, I think I have a right to know about important stuff like this!”_

_“I’m not opening a new café. This one just opened a few months ago.” Haru explains flatly._

_“Oh, well, someone’s going around saying that you are.”_

_“If it helps, your café is really popular!”_

_“Yeah, and a lot of our friends come by and grab something every once in a while!”_

_“See, Haru-chan?” Nagisa said with that smug smile he got when he’s been trying to prove a point. “You’re always thinking about how you can make this place better, but your customers love it just like this!”_

_Nagisa talked at him until he was satisfied with what he’d said. He then turned on his heel, made his way other to the small pile of clean towels, and dipped one in cleaner before heading out to clean off a few tables._

_Silently, Haru retreated behind the bar again. He noticed his workstation got messy from a few spillages and copied Nagisa by grabbing a cleaning rag and beginning to wipe down his station. For the first few minutes, he’s not paying attention to anything around him. Instead, he’d been solely focused on restoring the black counters to their previously clean state._

_“…Haruka?”_

_Upon the mention of his name yet again, Haru stilled for a second behind the sanctuary of his barn door but continued to clean nonetheless._

_“I didn’t expect him to run this place…he’s just very…”_

_“Introverted and…rude. I mean, you saw how he treated Nagisa-san. I bet he’s a shit boss.”_

_“But this place is really nice. It’s too bad the guy that owns it is kind of an ass.”_

_At this point, he was pretty sure he was born with enhanced hearing or something. He could tell they were whispering, their voices are as hushed as they can probably get._

_His mind told him that it doesn’t matter what they think. What other people think or make him out to be has never once affected him, so why is this any different? When his was still stuck in school, people said things like that around him all the time. There were guys and girls who were constantly whispering behind his back about what a sad waste his looks were, as apparently whatever deity in the sky gave them to a complete asshole. But their words never bothered him then and even in college as he was studying business, the same things were said behind his back whether he caught them or not._

_Only Rei, Nagisa, and Rin somewhat understand the way Haru acted and lived. But even they only understood to some extent. And for a while, he was content with that; convinced that he didn’t need anyone but the few that he’s known since grade school. But Nagisa and Rei are together and have been for a long time, and Rin has been seeing his girlfriend more often than not._

_So where does that leave him?_

_“Whoever his girlfriend is must be miserable.” He had heard as he scrubbed at counters. But there was not a spot on the shiny black surface._

_“He’s handsome, gorgeous even, but-“_

“He seems better off alone.” He whispers to himself, finishing the line that he’s heard people mutter over and over again in hushed tones.

His thoughts diminish in an instant when suddenly the back door to the shop swings shut, and Haru knows exactly who waltzes into his little café about eighteen minutes before opening. He turns to see who has opened the mahogany doors and is not surprised at who he finds.

“Are the Ryūgazaki husbands arguing about how you should start off the morning again?” He deadpans as he tucks his phone away in his pocket and rubs his eye with his free hand.

Haru shrugs his shoulders indifferently.

Rin makes his way around the bar, and plots down where he normally sits every other early morning as he waits for Haru to make his cup of coffee like he always does. He plops down with a huff and Haru notices the odd state of Rin’s rumpled uniform along with the fact that it smells like smoke. As soon as he gets one of the clay mugs down on the bar in front of Rin, Haru notices the dark bags under his eyes.

After adding two teaspoons of needed sugar and (by the looks of it) five shots of espresso, Haru presents Rin with the mug and leans against the counter staring intently at his counterpart.

“Thanks,” Rin mumbles as he goes to take a sip. Before realizing it’s hot as he jerks his mouth back from the ceramic rim of cup.

“It’s hot,” Haru informs as Rin lets out a hiss, but the melodramatic reaction Hara expects from him doesn’t come.

“I can see that.” He grumbles.

“Rinrin!” Nagisa exclaims as he joins Rin on the other side of the bar, sitting on one of the stools. “Did you get enough sleep? You look angrier than usual.”

“M’fine, Nagisa.”

“Don’t lie to me, Rin-chan. I’ll get you to tell me sooner or later.” Nagisa practically chirps despite Rin’s foul mood.

From beside Haru, Rei let’s out a sigh of defeat. “He’s right actually about that, Rin-san. You do look rather sleep deprived.”

Rin lets out a groan and sighs before consenting. “Fine. Whatever. I’m tired. Now, just let me fucking drink my coffee.”

If Rin had said this to just about anyone else, they would have either cowered in fear, or called him an asshole, but Haru, Nagisa, and Rei have known him long enough to not be phased by such a display of irritation.

Nagisa smiles and hops off the stool and pushes it back in. “Okay, you can just tell me what’s wrong when you want to.” He offers Rin a bright smile and Haru is honestly surprised that Nagisa let this go so easily.

Over the year’s span of knowing Nagisa, he’s learned that the reason the latter is so sunshine filled is that he wants to bring his friends happiness and joy. Despite being the bright and smiling ninety percent of the time, Nagisa has had his fair share of misfortunes and hard times. He doesn’t dwell too much on them, but they still happened; he just tries to make up for the bad memories by making good ones. The reason he can be so pushy and forward is an attempt to open up the person he’s worried about. Years spent with Nagisa gives Haru an understanding of how he shows that he cares, and for the longest time, that was how he displayed concern. It’s only until recently that Nagisa has started to take a different approach to another’s emotional state while conveying that he’s concerned for them.

 “Thanks,” Rin whispers softly as he turns his attention back to his dwindling cup of coffee.

“C’mon, Rei-chan, let’s go check the muffins Haru-chan put in earlier,” Nagisa suggests as he makes his way to stand beside his boyfriend.

“Can’t you do that yourself? You know how to put on rubber gloves and remove the goods from the oven without burning yourself.” Rei argues.

Nagisa laughs after he shrugs his shoulders and Rei scoffs before he chases Nagisa into the back room.

“You’d think I would have been more perceptive or something.” Rin grouses quietly. He probably meant to say it to himself, but of course, Haru heard.

Haru shrugs again and returns his attention to Rin still hunched over the mug cradled in his hands. “Is it Miu again?” Haru asks lowly in case Rei or Nagisa come busting through the doors of the backroom in a fit of disorder.

When Rin rests his head against the newly-wiped-down countertops with not another sound or movement coming from him, Haru knows he’s right.

“I just don’t get it.” Rin’s muffled voice complains. “I…I thought we could have at least talked something out, you know? Maybe I just wasn’t enough or I pushed her…?”

As Rin continues to ramble on, Haru listens closely. He wasn’t good at giving advice, and still isn’t great at it, but his friends will tell you that when he wants to be, Haru is a good listener.

“So she ditched you then.” Haru states bluntly.

In return, he’s given the death glare that isn’t threatening at all to him, but deadly to others.

“No, I’ve come here seventeen minutes before your damn coffee shop opens to tell my best friend how I’m such a shit boyfriend that I didn’t notice how oddly my girlfriend was acting until I get home to our– _her_ –apartment to see my shit packed up for me, before Miu asks if I could leave without an explanation.” Rin spits bitterly, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Haru rolls his eyes a little. There’s the melodramatic side of Rin Haru knew he’d been seeing soon. _And technically it’s eighteen minutes earlier._ Haru thinks to himself, correcting Rin’s comment.

“Are you going into work? Your shift starts in twenty minutes.” Haru reminds.

“Going in at noon. Aomine said he’d cover for me if I’d play on his streetball team for two weeks.” Rin drones as if he’s given the explanation more than a dozen times already.

Haru raises his eyebrow down at Rin. “Why?”

No response.

“Do you even know how to play basketball?” Haru deadpans.

At this not so subtle jab to his athletic ability, Rin’s head jerks up to look Haru dead in the eye. “ _Yes, Haru,_ I know how to play basketball.”

“Streetball?”

Rin sighs again. “I’ll figure it out.” He mutters. “He also promised three rounds on him; better fucking stick to his damn word.”

“Drink your coffee.”

Haru turns on his heal and heads back to check on the muffins he’d put in earlier, but he knows all too well that it shouldn’t be the only thing he should be checking on. When he pushes open the door to that leads to the ovens, he’s met with the sight of Nagisa bent over the baked sweets sprinkling the tops with cinnamon while Rei opens the oven door to take out the fresh blueberry muffins.

“I know you two heard us,” Haru mutters as he picks up a small cup of cinnamon flakes and joins the other two in spreading the sweet shavings over the steaming muffins.

Nagisa shrugs his shoulders and Rei’s ears tint pink as he pushes up his glasses. “Forgive us, Haruka-senpai, we’re merely worried about Rin-san’s emotional well-being. We knew that he’d tell us soon, but one’s worrisome manner can lead to some of the most dishonest acts.” Rei reasons.

They fall into silence as they continue to add cinnamon to the tops of the muffins until the back door to the shop opens to reveal their final member of the morning shift with ten minutes still left to spare.

“Hello.”

Now Haru remembers why he hired Kuroko Tetsuya to help handle the morning shifts. While Nagisa’s bright and optimistic character livens most people’s mornings, Kuroko’s calm, and patient mannerisms seem to quench the burning anger of the impatient and irritated morning risers who tend to stop by for an espresso or six.

Haru nods at Kuroko who is now tying his blue apron around his waist after hanging his bag on one of hooks near the back entrance from which he came. There’s no need to give him instructions due to the fact that they have been doing a very similar routine for the past couple of months; it also helps that just about every morning starts off the same.

“I still forget he’s here sometimes.” Nagisa grumbles with an almost annoyed tone.

Rei chuckles a little at Nagisa’s uncharacteristically irritated tone. “You may forget, but Akashi-sama does not.”

Nagisa’s head whips around to face Rei with a perplexed expression. “’Akashi-sama’? You mean that guy that always wears those really nice suits and orders ‘mulberry black tea’?” Nagisa asks as he imitates Akashi’s calm demeanor, but failing, and instead more imitating Haru at two in the morning.

Rei rolls his eyes and sighs a little at Nagisa’s terrible imitation of the heir to the Akashi business. “Yes, Nagisa-kun. Some of my colleagues have been relieved of duties at the hospital so they could personally see to the family’s medical needs.” Rei explains. “As I’m sure you are well aware of, the business the family runs has one heir: Seijūrō-sama. It’s been all over the news that Seijūrō-sama has been diagnosed with severe CAD. His father has no other children and–“

“I’ve set out all the nap dispensers on the tables along with the condiments. They’re by the straws.”

From over Rei’s shoulder, a tuft of light blue hair sticks up into Haru’s view. Nagisa jumps unceremoniously onto Rei’s left side and lets out a yelp as Rei is shaken with his own shock as well as his boyfriend’s. Somehow, he manages to remain standing on both feet even with the force of Nagisa’s outburst and his added weight. Though Rei may be observant in the sense of science, he doesn’t do very well when it comes to other people. It took three agonizing years of Nagisa’s constant, _obvious_ doting to plant the idea that he may return the latter’s feelings. And Haru and Rin were with them. Every. Painful. Step. Of. The. Way.

Haru nods his head at Kuroko signifying his thanks as Kuroko heads over to the cash register, preparing for the day ahead. He then turns to the pair that currently remind him of that western cartoon about the big dog and his friends that drive a colorful van. “Nagisa, go fix the sign outside. Rei set out the muffins and start a batch of cheese danishes or something.”

With a quick peck to Rei's cheek, Nagisa climbs off of his boyfriend’s back and practically skips over to the front of the store to do as he’s been told while Rei readjusts his red glasses and attempts not to look like cherry as he makes his way back to the oven.

Haru walks back over to stand in front of Rin at his place at the bar. He notices that he’s on the verge of falling asleep right then and there. With a huff, Haru reaches across the bar and nudges Rin’s forehead with his middle and pointer finger. Slowly, Rin lifts his head from where it’s cradled in his crossed arms. His eyelids droop over maroon irises and strands of loose hair are falling out of the hair tie that sits on the back of his neck.

Honestly, he looks like hell.

“Did you sleep in your car last night?”

Rin’s gaze breaks off and fixates itself on the stool to his left before letting out an indignant huff. “No.” So he didn’t sleep at all, then. “Not like I could have slept anywhere else at two thirty in the morning.”

“Do you have a place to stay or not?”

Why was he doing this?

“Well no, but I can–“

“Get your shit. We’ll take it upstairs. Your car’s around back right?”

Haru’s already walking out the back before Rin has time to down the last of his coffee and run after him.

“You’re sure?” Rin asks in a small voice.

Haru nods his head silently, eyes fixated ahead as he opens the back door.

There’s a moment in which neither of them says anything as Rin reaches into his left pocket to get his keys. As the two of them approach an old, burgundy camry from the early 90s, Rin unlocks the car and mutters a soft, “Thanks.”

There’s not much in Rin’s car. He and Miu have been living together in small apartments for the four years they were in college together and a year after they both finished with their degrees. Neither owned a lot, so small apartments were ideal for the two of them. Haru shoulders one duffle bag and grabs one of the two bigger boxes in the back seat while Rin pulls out two boxes and stacks them on top of each other. He hoists them up and Haru can hear his tread following him as they make their way back into the coffee shop after Rin’s closed and locked his car once more.

Over the edge of the box, Haru saw the doors to the shop open for he and Rin, and as they pass through the doorframe, Haru spots a movement of blue as the door goes to shut after Rin has made it indoors.

“Thanks, Kuroko.”

“Uh...thanks.” Rin mumbles uncertainly.

“You’re welcome.” Comes the quiet reply. “Should we open without you, Nanase-kun? While you were out, a line began to form at the front of the store," Kuroko informs.

“Yes. That’d be good. Rin will be staying with me for a while. I’m going to help him set up.”

He doesn’t see Kuroko nod his head, but he’s pretty sure he does, silently acknowledging that he is to watch the shop while Haru helps Rin move his things into the vacant second bedroom.

On their way up the narrow, hidden stair case, Haru and Rin catch Rei and Nagisa as they’re about to close the oven door on the blueberry muffins. Their bantering voices fade as Haru takes to the stairs with Rin in tow as they haul his belongings up the carpeted stairs to Haru’s flat above the café. They are greeted with the stillness of his flat as Haru pushes open the door. He pauses for a split second in the genkan, as he slips off his shoes, and takes a moment to glance at what he can honestly call home since his grandmother’s home back in Iwatobi.

His grandmother.

Haru’s childhood was plain, and maybe lonesome, but he always had his grandmother until she passed away. The year following her death was one of the darkest times of his life, not to mention that it didn’t help that his mother and father were a little (more than _a little_ ) peeved that Haru had received more than enough inheritance from his grandmother to sustain him for years on end. But his parent’s selfishness didn’t matter to him. What mattered to him was that he’d lost the one person who’d loved him no matter what. His grandmother loved him just the way he was and didn’t try to change him like his parents did. Now, years later, he’s gone to university and graduated with a degree in art and business, and it’s all thanks to his grandmother, and despite how much Haru’s grandmother loved him, Haru wonders if he’ll ever find someone who will love him for himself. Maybe then he won’t be plagued by the thoughts of being left in the dark alone.

Haru shakes his head at the thought. He’s never been one to dwell on the idea of finding someone special like Rin does. Due to the fact that he’s been on his own for a while, the idea of having someone so close and intimate around unnerves him. But at the same time, it doesn’t sound like the worst thing that could happen to him.

Though he knows that Rin has been in his flat more than once, he quietly asks him to follow him through the kitchen that to the right of him at the door leading to the stairs. They pass through the spacious kitchen on glossy, grey, ceramic tile, and make their way to a room that is completely adjacent to the master bedroom as it sits on the complete opposite side of Haru’s flat.

After Haru manages to open the door to the second bedroom in his flat, he can hear Rin let out a quiet whistle as they set both set down the boxes in their arms. The room that Haru will consider “Rin’s” for the next number of months, hasn’t actually been decorated yet. The navy carpet allows their feet to sink into its softness as the blue pigment is brought out in the light that streams in from the tall, arched window that’s been placed in the center of the wall they first see when they enter. The walls are painted in the same light shade of grey as the walls in the café and brick frames the tall window from the floor to the high ceiling.

“There’s no futon either. We can go this weekend. I’ve been saving money up for a few things for the flat.” Haru explains.

Rin nods his head dumbly slowly as he goes to look out the window lets out a sigh. “Okay.” He whispers before casting the view of the sun rising into the sky one aside and turning to face his best friend. “Thanks again, Haru.” Rin offers him a lopsided grin with a glimpse of shark teeth before he tries to stifle a yawn.

“You’re tired.”

Rin shrugs his shoulders and rubs the side of his neck sheepishly. “I wouldn’t say _tired_ –“

Rolling his eyes, Haru crosses his arms over his chest. “Idiot. You’re an officer. You know you have to take care of yourself.” When Rin mimics his eye roll, Haru huffs in annoyance. “You know where the shower is. Go get the smell of smoke off of you and throw the uniform in the wash. And if you don’t want me to kick you out, you’ll go take sleep for a few hours before your shift.”

Haru catches the small grin on Rin’s lips as he turns on his heel and leaves the room with a slam of the door. His legs take him to the living room and the blue waters catch his eye.

As he stands in front of the picture windows that overlook the ocean view of the flat he calls home, he lets out a sigh of contentment. The ocean’s air drifts up into his studio sometimes and he loves it. His head lolls back and he looks up at the lofty ceiling before refocusing his attention. As his eyes scan the room, he sees her. She’s the reason he can do what he wants rather than what his parents think he _should_ do. Now, all he wishes is that she could see what he’s done, and tell him that she’s proud.

Haru’s gaze falls to the table that sits on the left side wall, adjacent to the picture windows that makes up three-fourths of the wall in width and two-fifths of the wall in height. His grandmother’s shrine sits peacefully in the light of the rising sun. He notices one of the candles has gone out and makes his way over to the table to light it once more. As soon as the candle is lit, he bows his head and closes his eyes briefly before heading to his room and grabbing the paperwork he came up to get.

Reluctantly, Haru bids the silence goodbye and returns to the shop downstairs. After descending the wooden stairs, and taking to the left side where there’s a landing and the stairs break off into forks, he’s met with the familiar sound of the morning rush. He notes that the line has already started to form outside of the shop as Nagisa, Rei, and Kuroko bustle their way around the area behind the counter and bar to accommodate to their customer’s desires.

Haru shuts the door to the secret stairs before donning his own apron and making his way to assist his staff. As he and Rei continue to fulfill orders, Haru notes the sudden increase in the morning rush and makes a mental note to hire an extra hand in the case that this is the new ‘normal’ at the Crystal Dolphin.

By the time the morning rush is over, Rei has left for his job at the hospital. Not to mention, Nagisa, Kuroko, and Haru can finally take something similar to a break.

Haru continues to place cups and mugs into the undercounter dishwasher as a few customers file out of the building. This is the third time he’s had to refill the dishwasher in the past four hours, and he’s relieved to know that he doesn’t have to worry about hastily unloading it in the next forty-five minutes, not to mention he recently restocked the plastic cups as well. As he places the last mug into one of the top shelves, Haru glances up, his eyes landing on Nagisa who gives his manager a faint giggle before removing the towel from his apron and practically skipping off to wipe down a table a girl and her boyfriend just vacated. While Haru moves to begin emptying one of the coffee machines, he can hear the faint sound Nagisa wishing the couple to have a nice day.

“Nanase-kun.”

He doesn’t have to turn his head know who’s standing at his right.

“I’m sure you’ve already thought about this, but if this morning becomes every morning, we will need help,” Kuroko advises.

Haru nods his head, agreeing. “You’re right. I’ve already given it some thought.”

“I could work longer shifts if need be.” Kuroko offers as he begins to wipe off the counters.

“Thanks.”

Haru appreciates the curt, but purposeful conversations he has with Kuroko. Shortly after, he hears the back door open and shut.

“Good morning, Mikoshiba-kun.” Kuroko greets without looking up from his work.

Mikoshiba Momotarou is one of the local college students who applied for one of the spots at his shop when it was announced to open in next six months after an article in the newspaper was released. He’s blunt and impatient, but surprisingly productive nonetheless; so in the end, Haru doesn’t mind whether he pisses off some of the more problematic customers. He hired Kuroko for a reason, proving he’s not a complete idiot.

As Haru turns around to grab one of the smaller trashcans, he spots Momo just as his hand is falling to his side signifying he must have waved to Kuroko. While Momo goes to hang his stuff by Kuroko’s, Haru returns to the task of refilling the coffeemakers as he disposes of the used grounds.

The bell rings at the front of the shop.

“Oh, good morning, Akashi-sama!” Haru hears Nagisa greet.

 _Must be 10:20._ He thinks to himself.

Every day, around the same time it seems, the heir to the Akashi business comes in for the same thing: mulberry black tea.

“Morning, Akashi-sama. The usual, right?” Momo asks from behind the register.

“Yes. That would be nice.” Akashi nods as he hands over ¥330.

Momo nods his head as he takes the money. “He’ll bring it out in a few moments.”

Akashi nods his head and makes his way to the seat he usually occupies.

“Kuro-“

“I’m aware, Mikoshiba-kun. It’s almost ready anyway.” Kuroko says while passing Momo as he makes his way over to the hot water dispenser where a cup sits, steam seeping into the air. As Haru expects, Kuroko must have prepared the tea beforehand, knowing Akashi would eventually enter the shop.

Momo chuckles and scoffs at the same time (if that’s somehow possible). “’Almost ready’? Meaning you’ve already prepared it for him?”

“Yes.”

“You could just ask him out you know.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mikoshiba-kun.” Kuroko replies nonchalantly as he picks up the cup and turns to face Momo. “But I know we’re supposed to provide adequate customer service. With the knowledge that Akashi-sama comes into the shop at approximately 10:20 every morning along with the fact that he orders the same drink, I can easily be ready with his specific order hours or minutes before the order is placed. That’s common sense, Mikoshiba-kun.”

With that said, Kuroko easily breezes past a baffled Momo, tea in hand, and heads over to where Akashi sits near the front of the store.

When Momo finally manages to wipe his state of shock off his face from his of common sense, Nagisa has returned to the counter after bustling a few tables.

Before Nagisa can begin teasing Momo, Haru mutters something about checking something in his studio.

Once back upstairs, Haru turns left at his door and opens the door that leads to his room. Upon entering, he’s met with exactly what he expects to see: Matsuoka Rin curled into the fetal position on the side of the bed closest to the two large slider windows. Haru notes that the windows have been cracked on each side to let the cool breeze in before he goes to sit at his crappy little desk in the corner of his room. Haru pulls out the papers from a folder on which the prices of the ingredients, teas, coffees, condiments, and so on are recorded. He also pulls out his shitty little laptop that dies as soon as he unplugs it from the power source and logs into his bank account to check on a few things. With just a few quick glances at the numbers, he throws the paper down on his desk again and lets out a groan of frustration.

Haru may not like putting a lot of effort into most things, but he’s yet to slack off on anything to do with the café. Normally, he can deal with his shitty moods in silence and without anyone picking up on it, but for some reason, he feels like he’s just…sinking. And, more than anything, he hates this feeling. Haru leans back against the chairs back with his head lazily lolling, and when he thinks about getting up again, his body almost sinks lower into the uncomfortable chair. In other words, his body feels heavier than lead. His eyes fall shut and he promises himself that he’ll get up after just a few seconds of pleasant silence.

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door, and Haru jolts up on the familiar softness of his duvet. He's confused; he’s pretty sure he fell asleep on the stool he’s been using as a desk chair. But there’s no time to question how he got there. Through heavy breathing, he manages to ask who’s there as he glares daggers at the shut door.

“It’s Nagisa. Are you alright, Haru-chan?”

His voice is laced with concern and despite Haru’s bad mood, he hates that. Nagisa shouldn’t have to worry about him. There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s fine. He’s just fine.

Instead of answering, Haru sighs before forcing his body to get off of the bed, ignore the back pain he’s suddenly aware of and walks over to the door prior to opening it. “I’m fine, Nagisa. Is something wrong?”

“You’ve been up here for over three hours, Haru-chan.” Nagisa reveals.

No, there’s no way…

His head whips around to find Rin nowhere in sight.

If the shock was written on Haru’s face, he wipes it away before Nagisa notices. His mind begins to race, attempting to come up with a reason as to why slept for over two hours in the middle of the day.

“You know, it’s okay to take a break every now and then, Haru-chan.” Nagisa says quietly. “You don’t have to always be on your feet running around the shop during the day. Not to mention you don’t have to worry about it during the slower hours. There’s a reason humans weren’t made to work twenty-four hours a day, and all three-hundred sixty-five days of the year. Rest is good.” He ends with a smile.

Magenta meets kyanite blue. Haru knows Nagisa means well, but if he knew how much Haru wanted to drift into dreamless sleep (or sleep in general) at night, he wouldn’t simply tell him to rest. On that note, if Haru knew why he’s been suffering from insomnia for the past eleven years, he’d find a way to fix it. But no matter what his physician tells him, no matter what Rei advises, and no matter what Rin advises, Haru won’t sleep at night for more than four hours at most. He wishes he knew why. Because not only does he not sleep, but there are nights when he sleeps like what he thinks a normal person should be sleeping, and he doesn’t understand why his body has been on such an abnormal and _annoying_ sleep schedule.

“Haru-chan?” Nagisa’s voice cuts through his thoughts.

Haru shakes his head a little and rubs his eyes. “Drop the ‘-chan’.” He mutters as he makes his way over to the genkan in which Nagisa stands. “I’m fine.”

Without another word, Haru brushes past Nagisa and descends the stairs like he did earlier that day, knowing that he’ll be followed after the door to his studio is shut. After he descends the stairs for the third time, he feels as if he’s in a daze, but he’s sure it’ll go away eventually.

As Haru and Nagisa both reenter the café, Haru notes the crowd and the fact that the majority of it is seated in a chair or placing orders with Momo at the register. Quickly, Haru makes his way behind the bar once more with Nagisa right behind him.

“Nanase-kun, are you alright?” Kuroko asks without looking up from the fresh pastries he’s setting in the display case. Once, the pastries are safely in the case, Kuroko turns to face him. After reassuring him with a nod, Haru notices that, to his dismay, the food for lunch and dinner has yet to be started.

 _‘Definitely gonna need to put out a sign for hire.’_ Haru notes as he positions himself at the stove and the oven where he begins to prepare the food for lunch. He doesn’t know how long he spends tending to the food and serving it as well, but he’s had a few days like this and he guesses he should start getting used to it.

When Haru spots a two-liter of milk that is on the brink of being empty, he heads for the fridge to retrieve another. Upon returning, Momo asks him to take over the register for a second while he runs to the bathroom. After he positions himself at the register, Haru gestures for the next customer.

As she approaches, Haru doesn’t say anything in an attempt to make small talk; he’s never liked it much. Instead, he simply says, “what do you want” just loud enough for her to hear.

“Water, and two medium cups of black coffee; one with cream.” She requests. “An order of shio ramen, yakisoba, green curry, and a bowl of doteyaki to go.”

“¥3582.”

When he looks up to take the money from her out stretched hand, he notes the muted, purple hair that’s long and shaven on both sides, deep, amethyst eyes that are tinted with navy blue, and an oddly pale complexion. She’s not particularly tall, maybe about 165 centimeters.

“Name?”

“Sora.”

He nods his head as he types out her name, prints out the stickers before sticking them to the cups, and hands her a table marker. “It’ll be ready soon.” He says as he hands over the marker.

Just as he’s uttered these words, Haru feels a hand clamp down on his shoulder.

“Thanks, Nanase-san, I can take back the register.” Momo says as he offers Haru a smile.

With a quick nod and not a sound, Haru picks up the three empty cups and moves to stand in front of the coffee makers to pour black coffee into the two paper cups, adding the cream to one. He then fills the plastic cup with ice and adds cold, crystalline water. Then he makes a mental note to pour himself some when he gets back. In the back, where the food sizzles and boils, Haru twists the knobs to turn down the heat, grabs two bowls and a plate from the assortment of white, plastic dishes then begins to pour and place the food accordingly. Once he’s finished preparing the food, he reaches under into the vertical slots above the stove where the large, black serving platters are stored. Haru returns to where he’d left the three drinks and places think into a disposable drink carrier to aid him. He then goes over the order once more to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything. The last thing on the order was a bowl of detoyaki to go.

“Nagisa, will you get me a to-go bowl?”

He faintly hears Nagisa confirm that he will as Haru begins to stir the ramen so it won’t stick to the sides of the soup chafer.

“Here you go, Haru-chan.” Nagisa smiles with a plastic container outstretched in his hand accompanied by a paper holder to secure around the hot plastic.

Haru nods his thanks before whipping out a plastic sack and pouring the soup into the container, fastening the lid tightly, and tying it up in the plastic sack. Gathering the drink carrier in one hand and skillfully picking up the serving platter with the other, along with the to-go soup’s bag nestled in the crevice of his elbow, Haru makes his way out into the café.

As he leaves the bar, his eyes scan for purple hair, and as soon as he spots their head by the clear glass, he makes his way toward the table.

“Water, two black coffees, one with cream, shio ramen, a plate of yakisoba, green curry, and a bowl of detoyaki to go for Sora?” Haru reads off of his copy of the receipt after setting the drink carrier down.

“Yeah, that’s us.”

Haru begins to read off the names of their meals before setting them on the table in front of the right person, leaving the to-go bowl in the middle. He hears two of them thank him to which he nods.

When he goes to set down the green curry, the last customer reaches out to take the plate from his hands and Haru notices black ink that peaks out from under the black sleeves, covering a forearm bound with thick muscle. There’s a sudden shock of his nerves that runs up his arm at the slight touch between the tip of his finger and this stranger’s. Haru’s eyes travel up the to a red flannel shirt that’s been rolled at the elbow, to a defined Adam’s apple, and a sharp jawline, before finally meeting big, green eyes that radiate warmth.

“Thank you,” he says with a smile.

Haru closes the slight gap he’s apparently opened between his lips and nods his head curtly as he did with the others before retreating to the safe place behind the bar. Once away from the suffocating warmth of those green eyes, Haru notes his racing pulse and lets out a breath of air he didn’t know he’d been holding in.

He’s hunched over the sink with his head hung low when Kuroko informs him that he’ll be leaving for the day. He asks Haru if he’s okay once more and like always, Haru nods his head before telling Kuroko that he’ll see him the next morning. Finally, his suddenly racing heart has dulled, the sweat he broke out into has dried, and the electricity that ran through his arm just then has dulled a little, but the aftershocks have yet to fade completely. 

 _What that hell?_ He wonders.

“Haru-chan?” Nagisa’s voice drifts. “Who was that you just gave coffee to?”

Is it just him or does Nagisa sound _amused?_

“Who?” Haru asks dumbly.

“The three. The guy wearing the red, girl with the shaved purple hair, and the guy wearing the police get up.” Nagisa clarifies.

He tries to remember the name she gave him for their drinks. “I don’t remember.” Haru deadpans.

“But you literally just took their orders at the register!” Nagisa practically screeches in exaggeration.

Haru shrugs. “Why do you want to know?”

“I was just wondering where she got her hair dyed. It was done really well. Also, my boss practically just sprinted behind the counter after handing off their drinks. Now I find you back here leaning over the sink. I’m curious.” He smiles.

Haru continues to simply stare at Nagisa with the same bored expression he’s worn for the majority of his life.

“Fine. I’ll check Momo’s register when I can.” Nagisa huffs.

While Haru still doesn’t understand why Nagisa has any particular interest in the three customers he just served, he also doesn’t understand why the simple sight of emerald eyes caused his body to overheat and his heart to beat again. Once he’s collected himself, Haru plants himself firmly behind the barrier of his barn door and carries out orders given to him.

He subtly peeks out to check and see if their spot has been vacated. After he notes there ’s no one any longer occupying that space, he fills cups with tea, coffee, and hot chocolate once again. Nevertheless, his mind continues to remind him of the man with olive toned hair, wearing the red flannel, and the jolt of numbing electricity that shot through his arm.

By the time Haru is finished mopping the floor and wiping down the counter, it’s around ten and he’s heading up to his flat. Once standing in the genkan, he slips off his shoes and makes his way to the small kitchen to fix himself a quick dinner of grilled mackerel and rice.

Then there’s a knock at the door and the sudden reminder from this morning hits him like a truck.

Rin now squats in his home until further notice.

That means…

Haru lets out a sigh. It can’t be that bad. Rin’s a surprising clean freak. He’s been like that since forever and it is something Haru can appreciate. As he grills the mackerel on the grill, Haru wonders what time Rin will be back and if he should leave a plate out for him or not. With a glance at the clock, Haru notes that the bright blue letters read eleven thirty-four.

He does spend his time cleaning the shop every night because it is something he takes pride in. When the metal handle to the rustic door turns and the door is pushed open, Haru’s impressed with his intuition to make enough fish for Rin as well.

“Hey,” Rin greets as he closes the door behind him.

Haru grunts in response as he turns over his piece of fish concentrated.

“You should probably lock the door downstairs. And this door, actually.” Rin states as he gestures to the unlocked entries.

In response, Haru shrugs his shoulders noncommittedly. “No one but Rei, and Nagisa, and you and I know about that door. What’s the point in locking it?”

“Haru, we don’t live in Iwatobi anymore. Anyone could be walking down that alley behind the shop and easily find the entrance to your home.” Rin argues.

“I only have one key.”

“Then I’ll make a copy at the hardware store down the street from the station tomorrow.”

“The locks on the two back doors are different.”

“Then I’ll make two copies of each.”

Haru twists his head to raise an eyebrow at Rin. “Why? No one has tried to–“

“Because I don’t want someone to kill you in the middle of the night while you sleep.” Rin grits out through clenched teeth and narrowed eyes.

“That’s not g–“

“They didn’t think it was going to happen to them either.” Rin interrupts.

Silence engulfs the two of them. Neither say a word as they both focus on staring at anything else but each other.

Despite how Haru thinks Rin to be wrong about most things, he sighs, relenting. “Get the keys tomorrow then.”

Out of the corner of his peripheral vision, Haru sees Rin’s head jerk back to focus on him. He doesn’t have to look directly at Rin to know that there are tears threatening to spill out of his eyes at any second.

As Haru gets out the plate for them to eat their mackerel, rice, and vegetables on, he inwardly sighs. He didn’t mean to bring that up.

“Food’s ready.” He supplies as he turns off the stove.

He’s still focused on putting food on plates as Rin maneuvers around him to grab two glasses from the cabinets and fill them both with water from the fridge.

Haru picks up the two bowls of food and carries them across the room to the other side of the front door where a table set for four stands awkwardly in the middle of the space meant to act as a dining space. After setting the bowls at the first two places Haru got to, he then pulled out one of the chairs and sat down, Rin mimicking him seconds later.

“Did you sleep enough earlier today?” Haru asks as he picks up his chopsticks.

“Yeah. Did you?”

Haru stills and Rin lets out a sigh.

“You looked pretty damn uncomfortable slouched on that stool of yours so I moved you. Thought you’d be way more comfortable in your bed.” Rin mumbles.

There’s a moment in which the only thing that can be heard between the two of them is the clink of their chopsticks accidentally tapping the sides of the white, clay bowls.

“Thanks,” Haru mumbles.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.”

They the rest eat in silence and neither of them deem it uncomfortable, just dejected.

“I’ll sleep on the couch until this weekend.” Rin decides as Haru scoops the last of his rice into his mouth.

He hums in agreement and picks his bowl up to wash it out and place it into the dishwasher; Rin follows in suit. While Rin closes the dishwasher, Haru rummages through the chest at the foot of his bed where he keeps extra blankets and a few fluffy pillows. He finds the extra duvet at the bottom and pulls it out along with two pillows. When he reenters the main room, Rin is nowhere in sight, but upon standing still for a few seconds, he hears the familiar sound of water running in the bathroom down the short hallway, across from what will be Rin’s room.

Tossing the duvet and the pillows haphazardly onto the bamboo flooring, Haru moves to toss a few of the cushions off the small sectional. After he’s satisfied, he turns to the square ottoman and bends at the waist to grip the sides. He plucks the smooth black, metal surface off and flips it over to the cushioned side that matches the cloth covering the couch. Once that’s secured in place, Haru pushes the square ottoman into the curve of the sectional and takes step back. On a second thought, he retreats back into his room for one of the quilts he keeps in the chest with the others.

He spreads the light blue quilt over the ottoman and the seating of the couch and tucks the edges into the couch’s crevices. Content, he tosses the two pillows on the makeshift bed along with the green duvet as Rin emerges from the bathroom with a towel draped over his head clad in a tank and sweats.

When he notices the bed Haru had created for him out the sofa, Rin’s face twisted into an expression Haru recognized a guilt. “Thanks, but I could have done that. You didn’t need to.”

It wasn’t really a big deal to him, but his eyes look off to the side and he inwardly sighs. “It’s fine. Good night.”

With that said, he turns on his heal and heads back into his room as Rin wishes him a good night as well.

It’s almost one now, and Haru is disappointed to find that he doesn’t have time for a soak in the tub before bed. Not to mention he didn’t even at least have time to stand on the ocean’s shore to feel the salty water on his feet.

Without a sound, Haru whips his clothes off before jumping into the small tile shower for a quick wash. Once out in the cool air and away from the hot water, he moves around his bathroom with speed as he avoids all eye contact with himself in the mirrors. Once he’s got a towel around the back of his neck to catch stray droplets of water that gather at the end of his hair, a t-shirt, and sweats on, he turns around at the sink to brush his teeth.

Haru hates seeing himself in the mirror. It’s just a stupid reminder of how much he hates people and himself. Despite how much he doesn’t care for nameless faces, he can’t help but agree with those quiet voices over his shoulder. The gods _did_ make a mistake when he was born; he’s too pretty for the personality he has and, honestly, he wishes he wasn’t so obviously different.

 _Oh, what a waste the gods did on this one._ The voices echo in his head. _He’s absolutely beautiful, but he has a terrible personality. Nanase’s meant to be alone._

After spitting out his toothpaste and rinsing his mouth out with water, Haru turns the light out in his bathroom and makes his way to the right side of his bed. When he finally lays down and wraps himself in his blanket cocoon-like he does every night, Haru watches the moon’s reflection shimmer on the surface of the still waters.

He lets out another huff before allowing his eyes to slowly close. Though he knows that he will most likely wake up in the next forty minutes for no apparent reason other than the fact that his mind, body, and soul hate him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i want to thank everyone for their support and i hope you enjoy this next chapter. i will say that i think i write Haru better than Mako, but...it's fine. i hope. also this chapter does include an OC (Sousuke's sister) and if you will i'd love some feedback on her. anyway, enjoy the update :)

**Two.**

**_Makoto_ **

If he’s honest, sometimes, he gets tired of all the ignorant people who waltz into his shop like they know everything about his job. Makoto knows that he has a ton of patience, and knows that from the start, he can’t let that patience run thin when it comes to his profession.

He’s sitting in his studio sketching when a familiar head of muted purple pops her head in to offer him company.

“Yo, Mako.” She greets with a raised hand.

Makoto glances up from his sketch book and notes Sora’s usual choice of black clothing. He offers her a small smile in greeting as she comes in to sit on the edge of the customer’s chair.

Sora has been a part of Makoto’s life for as long as he can remember. She’s always been quite different from the other girls Makoto has come to meet over the years and despite the fact that she embraces her uniqueness now, even it gave her trouble for years. Like Makoto, she’s been tattooing for years and piercing for two years longer than he has. In his defense, he thinks she’s much better at it anyway.

“That looks beautiful, Mako.” She breathes as her eyes scan the page over her shoulder.

He lets out a faint chuckle and shrugs his shoulders. “I guess so. It feels like something is missing. I just don’t know what.”

On the sketch pad sits a drawing of a [shark](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/520447300684662371/). Makoto has captured the gentle side of the shark that most people don’t see and in no way does it look menacing. Around the shark, there are two tropical vines with flowers that start bigger at the base of the line and slowly grow smaller. The design has what looks to be seaweed sprouting out in different places along the row of flowers, and at the very tip of these flowers where the smallest ones appear to be floating in the ocean water, there are two very small butterflies perched on the last flowers of the vine.

“Well, you haven’t shaded it yet, or given any color to it,” Sora reasons. “You’re the one who constantly tells me that you can’t really judge a design until it’s completely finished. I’m sure it’ll turn out great.”

Makoto lifts his criticizing gaze from the shark on the page and smiles up at Sora. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right.” He relents with a huff.

Despite the fact that he’s been tattooing for seven years now, Makoto still has first times anxieties as if he were just starting in the business. He knows that he’s still a little bit of a beginner, but in light of that, he’s been told that he’s far more advanced in inking than most his age.

Well, that’s what his mentors used to say anyway. He’s not sure that he believes them too much, but most of the customers he’s served have been satisfied with his art, and for him, that’s all that matters.

Makoto understands the immense intimacy that comes with having a tattoo done. He can’t count how many times he’s witnessed someone work with him for months on end to create the perfect tattoo design in order to tell the story behind the ink. And if he’s honest, those are usually his favorite to finally add color to.

During the days that leave him emotionally drained, an easy touch up or a quick fix is most certainly welcomed. While the custom tattoos are satisfying for both the artist and their customer, walk-ins are greatly appreciated–especially on busy days where he has appointments stacked within an hour of each other.

When he tears his eyes away from the page he’s been working on for what feels like the past two hours or more, he notices Sora typing away at lightning speed on her phone.

“Sou just took his break.” She informs him. “Do you want to go meet him for a late lunch?”

Makoto nods his head as he closes his sketch book, and they rise from their perches. “But wouldn’t it just be considered dinner at this point?” He asks as he makes his way over to the book shelf he keeps across from his station and tucks the book away in with the rest.

“I guess. We’ve been here for about six hours, and business hasn’t given us a break until about half an hour ago. So I think it’s around seven–ish,” Sora mumbles from the where the curtain he calls a ‘door’ hangs.

With an amused shake of his head, Makoto quickly turns off the six lamps he keeps on in his section of the parlor and follows Sora to the front of the store. Once the two of them make their way to the front of the parlor where a place has been set up to act as the customer waiting room, they grab the attention of their receptionist (slash tattooist) who sits in a rolling chair behind a tall desk, typing away at the computer.

“Ikuya, we’re gonna grab some food. Do you want anything?” Sora asks as Makoto slips on a grey zip up that hangs on one of the hooks by the door.

From behind the tall desk, a head of unkempt, teal hair shifts slightly before looking up to look up at Sora with amber eyes. “Where are you going?” His quiet voice inquires.

“A few streets down. Somewhere called ‘Dolphin’s Cove.’ We’re meeting Sousuke.” Sora explains. She pauses for a second. “Do you want to come with us? The rest of our appointments don’t start for the next hour and a half, or something like that.”

As Makoto has noted for the past year, Sora and Ikuya are very similar in many ways, and surprisingly, in the small span of a year, the two of them have become very good friends. They’re not particularly loud and neither of them seem to have a desire to fit in properly with others. In some way, Makoto thinks that if they had met earlier in life, then they both may have had someone to call a ‘best friend’ when they needed it most.

His recollection leads Makoto to remember the first day Ikuya wandered into his mentor’s parlor over two years ago. Like himself, Ikuya wanted to become an apprentice to prepare himself for the career he has a passion for. At twenty-two, he has one more year before he can start tattooing professionally on his own without the guidance of a mentor.

Ikuya shakes his head slowly. “I’m fine here.” There’s not even a second between Ikuya uttering those three words and the low growl that emits from his stomach, and both Makoto and Sora fix him with a mock glare. “I suppose a bowl of doteyaki would be nice. Hold on, I’ll give you some money to pay for it.”

Ikuya goes to dig through his backpack to retrieve his money, but before Sora can open her mouth to protest, Makoto beats her to it. “Ikuya, it can’t be more than ¥500. Don’t worry about it.”

Makoto vividly remembers how much money he had when he was working as an apprentice. Along with the hours he spent at his mentor’s tattoo parlor, he had to work two other jobs to sustain himself. He knows that circumstances could have been much worse, but just because they weren’t, didn’t mean that he wasn’t stressed or in the best place at the time.

“No, Makoto, I’m not a charity case,” Ikuya grumbles. “I can spare ¥500 for a damn bowl of doteyaki.”

“You know that’s not what we think of you.” Makoto fires back calmly. “As a friend and not your mentor, just let me buy you this. It’s like you said, it’s just a bowl of doteyaki. No big deal.”

True, he said it as well, but if Ikuya will just let him get the soup, he’ll be satisfied, and he knows that the latter will be as well.

For a few moments, there’s silence in the air as the three of them stand in the front of the parlor arguing. Finally, Ikuya lets out a defeated sigh as his hand comes up to rub his left temple. “Fine. Just this one time.”

Makoto’s face splits into a bright grin, content that Ikuya caved. “Okay. We’ll be back soon.” He says as he turns to head out the doors.

Over his shoulder, Makoto can hear Ikuya hum in understanding.

Sora and Makoto make a right outside of the parlor as they follow the directions on Sora’s phone and they talk during their walk to the café.

“I’ve heard about this place,” Sora says offhandedly.  “It opened not long ago. They say it’s become very popular.”

Makoto wracks his mind in an attempt to evoke any mention of The Dolphin's Cove but comes up with nothing. “Either I can’t remember whether I’ve been told about it, or you’re the first person to mention it.”

“Online it says it’s a coffee shop, but I checked the menu and there’s a couple of dishes as well.” Sora shrugs.

“Maybe they’re trying to expand?” Makoto suggests. “You did say that they opened not long ago, right?”

Sora hums. “Yeah.”

They turn the corner after walking six streets down with the view of the ocean on their left accompanied by the streets where cars zoom by, and the vast variety of businesses and shops on their right. When Makoto and Sora come to stop at the crosswalk that leads to the other side of the street where The Dolphin's Cove sits.

The outside of the café is made mostly of glass and provided a very modern look to the building, but he expected nothing less. There’s a large, wooden, rustic sign that sits on the storefront’s curve, displaying the name. The building’s support relies on light grey cylinder blocks which adds on to the modern, sleek look the builder must have been going for. Makoto notices that from where he stands, there are windows that wrap around the front of the shop which provides a very calm feeling due to the fact that the ocean is nearby. Well, for most people anyway.

“It looks very nice.” Sora compliments from where she stands him as they both take a moment to admire the contemporary café.

“Yeah, no kidding.” Makoto mutters in agreement as his green eyes scan the building over once again. Compared to the small shop in which his tattoo parlor sits, this large, up-scale structure is a serious upgrade. Then again, their chosen professions are much different, therefore having requirements and needs.

Makoto and Sora set out to cross the busy street. Sora opens the right hand glass door and Makoto follows her inside. Upon entering, he is met with the strong smell of incense, though the scent isn’t unwelcomed. The décor is surprisingly rustic with wooden table tops with black, iron bases, sleek charcoal concrete floors, and exposed, white brick climbing halfway up the wall. Both the bar stools and the table chairs have wooden backs that curve and are connected by two wooden bars that are painted black and attached to the seat. All the seat skins are the same shade of navy material, including the coverings on the booths which even have little pillows to accent the blue with white and light grey.

“Look at all this natural light,” Sora breathes in awe. “They don’t even have to turn on the lights on days like this.”

True enough, when Makoto lifts his gaze to the open ceiling, the pendant lights that have been strewn randomly adorning the ceiling aren’t even in use. The large fan that takes up the most room on the ceiling rotates slowly, and like the other lights in the café, it’s not on.

As Makoto is scanning the room in admiration, he spots a head of black hair that is unmistakably Sousuke’s. He’s hunched over a table next to the windows with his phone in his hands and a focused expression twisted on his face.

“Hey, Sora, he’s over there,” Makoto informs as he gestures to Sousuke from where they stand.

Her eyes lock in on Sousuke from across the café before making a direct beeline for the window seats with Makoto following close behind.

On their way over, Sousuke looks up from his phone. “I thought I’d have to get back in that damn patrol car before you guys showed up.” He jokes.

“You’re so dramatic,” Sora grunts sarcastically as she pulls out one of the chairs and sits down in it, Makoto mimicking her on the left.

Sousuke’s low laugh can just barely be heard over the buzz of conversation around them. “Right. I’m definitely the dramatic one. Who cried more at the end of that western movie with the black dragon and the scrawny kid?”

Sora shoots Sousuke a wide-eyed stare. “He lost his _leg_ , Sou.” She deadpans despite her exasperated stare. “Have you no soul?”

Makoto smiles at the sight of Sousuke and Sora as they continue to argue just loud enough for Makoto to hear them, taking jabs at each other in a quiet and passive manner.

Sousuke and Makoto have been friends since early primary school. Sousuke always sat by himself, seemingly content to be alone, while Makoto, clumsy as he may have been, wasn’t like any of the other boys either. Sousuke liked to sit and read novels whilst Makoto would sit by his side and draw beautiful killer whales or majestic whale sharks.

“I’m just going to get the food.” Sora grunts standing up.

“Do you even know what I want?” Sousuke calls out after her as she makes her way toward the register with her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her sweatshirt.

“Shio ramen,” she snaps back at him without turning around.

Makoto lets out a small chuckle at their exchange. “You two just don’t change.”

Sousuke rolls his eyes and shrugs his shoulders. “Sora’s a one-of-a-kind sister.”

For obvious reasons, most people don’t realize Sousuke and Sora are brother and sister. With Sousuke’s dark hair and teal eyes, no one would ever think that Sora’s purple locks and navy eyes would make the two of them related by blood.

“How’s your new partner?” Makoto asks as he leans forward on his arms, almost mimicking Sousuke’s hunched form.

Sousuke raises an eyebrow at him with a slight smirk on his lips.

“No, you know what I mean, Sousuke,” Makoto mumbles with a roll of his eyes.

Shrugging his one of his shoulders, Sousuke glances off to the side and back nonchalantly. “…Not what I expected.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Sousuke purses his lips together, tilting his head to his right in thought. “I guess, from the way the captain described her, I expected this loud, arrogant girl with an ego the size of a blue whale.”

“…And?”

“And _he_ wasn’t. He looked like shit. Like he hadn’t slept in days,” Sousuke elaborates. “But he’s got a kind of girly name like you do, Makoto.”

He raises an eyebrow at Sousuke suspiciously.

“No, I’m serious: it’s Rin. Matsuoka Rin,” Sousuke argues as he tries to keep himself from laughing at Makoto’s grimace.

“I thought that joke died when we were twelve,” Makoto deadpans as he fixes Sousuke with an unamused expression.

Sousuke just shrugs his shoulders indifferently.

Makoto is quiet for a moment before asking, “Well, did he give you any reason for looking tired…or?”

He shakes his head. “No, none. I didn’t pry. I mean, I like my privacy, so I thought I’d respect his,” Sousuke reasons. “Besides, I didn’t know whether or not he’d even talk. In a sense, I _am_ replacing his old partner, and doesn’t know shit about me.”

Just by his tone, Makoto knows that it’s bothered Sousuke for the past majority of the day. Most people take one look at Sousuke and instantly label him as an intimidating, brooding person with a one-track mind, but that’s not the case at all. Despite the fact that Sousuke’s resting bitch face gives most the wrong impression, Sousuke is kind and caring to a fault even. Sousuke always give Makoto a hard time for constantly worrying over everyone, but Makoto knows that he worries just as much; maybe even more. And the fact that he’s been silently worrying over his new co-worker only proves that.

Makoto fixes Sousuke with a serious look. “Just because he didn’t say anything doesn’t mean that he didn’t want someone to ask what was wrong,” He chides, voice dropping lowly so that only Sousuke could hear him. “You know that. Do I have to remind you–“

“Don’t.” Sousuke’s sharp tone snaps.

Neither of them breathe a word or make a sound as Makoto’s staid expression remains focused on Sousuke, the latter’s eyes narrowing and brows furrowing. Makoto is very well aware of the guilt Sousuke feels as a brother, and he knows exactly what it feels like; because he experiences the same guilt. Though the psychologist insisted that there was nothing either of them could have done, it did nothing to ease the gut-wrenching pain that twisted their insides and still does to this day.

After several, long seconds of silently arguing with one another, Makoto let’s out a small sigh and turns his head to gaze out the window. The sight of the ocean unnerves him, but he has to admit that despite his fear and biased opinion of the sea, it is beautiful.

“If I didn’t know you two, I’d think you were both genuinely pissed at the other.”

When Makoto tears his eyes away from the sparkling water, he sees that Sora has returned to their table, and inwardly hopes that she didn’t notice that they had actually had somewhat of an argument. She looks down at this with her navy, almond eyes and Makoto can see concern welling up in her irises.

“Nah, don’t worry, Sora, we’re just talking about my new partner,” Sousuke assures as she takes her seat by Makoto.

Though she nods her head slowly, Sora doesn’t look very convinced but lets them slide by without further interrogation. “How’s work so far, then? What’s your new partner like?” She asks instead.

Sousuke begins with the fact that he had accidentally mistaken Rin for a girl when in reality he’s a guy. He goes on to tell her something similar to what he’d told Makoto minutes before and continues on from there.

“Look like he’d been up too long. Or hadn’t got enough sleep.” Sousuke shrugs.

“Maybe he has insomnia or maybe he’s just really stressed out,” Sora suggests. “Sometimes people lose sleep over stress and it lasts for days on end.”

Sousuke purses his lips. “That’s true, I guess…Did I mention his teeth?” He asks randomly.

Makoto shakes his head and narrows his eyes, perplexed. “No, why were you even looking at his teeth, Sousuke?”

“That’s a good question,” Sora mumbles to the side.

With a roll of his eyes, Sousuke crosses his arms over his chest and leans further back in his seat, slouching a little. “If you’d seen him, you’d know why.”

Just as Makoto is about to ask further questions, he hears the footsteps approaching their table.

“Water, two black coffees, one with cream, shio ramen, a plate of yakisoba, green curry, and a bowl of doteyaki to go for Sora?” Makoto hears a voice deadpan.

When he looks up to see make eye contact with the waiter, he’s greeted with eyes that are bluer than the ocean itself as they read off of his copy of thin, white paper.

“Yeah, that’s us,” Sora confirms after he’s set the drinks down to read off the receipt.

With a short nod of his head, the waiter begins to announce the name of each dish, allowing the Yamazaki twins to get their food first before he holds up a dish of green curry. When Makoto goes to takes the bowl from him, he silently takes his fair complexion along with his inky black hair and sharp facial features.

“Thank you.” Makoto manages to say without stuttering out the words and offering a small smile. As he takes the bowl from his hands, Makoto’s fingers accidentally brush the very edge of blunt nails. He feels a rush of energy that he could only describe as electrifying run up his arm and practically numb his right arm for a second.

In that moment, the waiter stills before he nods his head and turns on his heel to head back to the kitchen, leaving Makoto to wonder whether or not he felt that odd jolt as well.

“What was the waiter’s name?” Sousuke wonders out loud after swallows a mouthful of ramen.

“I think it’s Nanase. Nanase Haruka. He and Mako are in the same boat. You’ve both got kinda girly names,” Sora says as she sets Ikuya’s food in the vacant place across from her. “He’s the owner, but he works the store every day but Saturdays and half of Sundays doing just about everything.”

 _Nanase,_ Makoto says to himself. _Haruka, Nanase Haruka._

Haruka is a beautiful name.

Without trying to seem suspicious in the slightest, Makoto swallows his own bite of green curry before turning to face Sora. “How do you even know that?”

Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to suspect Makoto of having any personal interest in the owner of The Dolphin’s Cove. “I know a guy that works here. I don’t see him now, but–oh, there he is.”

She gestures to a guy with light, blue hair that Makoto briefly caught a glimpse at as he was studying the register and menu set up.

“How _do_ you know him?” Sousuke demands.

Makoto ducks his head to take a sip of his coffee in an attempt to hide his smirk. He knows that tone all too well.

“He came in with a guy who got a tattoo about a week ago. He’s supposed to come back tomorrow. I think his name is Kuroko. While I was inking, I asked both of them a few questions. He said he’s in university, and he’s got a part-time job working here. But the other guy is a firefighter and he plays streetball with a few of his friends on weekends.”

Sousuke raises an eyebrow at his sister as if he’s not convinced.

“For fuck’s sake, Sou, not every person I talk about indicates that I’m interested in them romantically,” Sora grumbles.

“Considering how introverted and quiet we both are, I consider it suspicious,” Sousuke contradicts. “If you’re not interested romantically, why do you remember so much about the both of them?”

“Sousuke,” Makoto draws out the length of his name. From across the table, he raises an eyebrow at his brother and fixes his with a ‘you can’t be serious’ expression.

“What? You can’t expect me to not worry, Makoto.” Sousuke defends glancing off to the side. “Besides, if it was Ran or Ren you’d do the same thing. Hell, I’d do the same thing.”

Makoto laughs a little and notes the slight smirk that pulls at the edge of Sousuke’s lips. “I guess you’re right,” He takes another bite of curry and swallows. “I think I remember who she’s talking about though. They seemed nice enough, Sousuke.”

Sousuke rolls his eyes, “Of course you’d say that.”

The three of them finish up their meals and say their temporary goodbyes as they part ways outside of the café. As Makoto and Sora make their way back down the street, Makoto notes that something’s off about Sora. Anxiety hits him like a train and his stomach knots into clumps.

“Sora,” Makoto just barely whispers her name. “Are you okay?”

He knows how much she hates being asked this question, but he’s worried and he’s concerned.

“I’m okay, Mako. Just, full.”

Unconvinced, Makoto stops in his tracks, resulting in Sora turning to face him a few paces in front of him. The sunset’s glow rests on her left side and the soft ocean breeze hits the right side of his face.

“Sora, I know something’s wrong.” He doesn’t press further and she makes no move to correct him. For what felt like hours they stood in front of each other silently.

“Really, Mako, it’s fine. Honestly, I’m okay.” Without another word, she turns on her heal and starts toward the parlor again.

A few seconds pass and he sighs before following her, easily catching up with his long strides. Their walk continues in silence which is neither awkward nor comfortable, but somewhere in the middle and he hates it. His mind is racing and he knows he’ll have to tell Sousuke about this later, despite the fact that it’ll both frustrate him and worry him. He silently hopes that she’ll talk with Ikuya and she’ll get it out of her system. Makoto knows that they trust each other relentlessly and if something really bothering her, she’ll tell him.

When the shop comes into sight, he lets out a sigh of relief internally.

The shop bell rings and Ikuya’s head strains over the top of the counter to see who’s come in.

“We’re back,” Makoto announces.

Sora makes her way behind the counter and holds up the food they promised to bring Ikuya. He nods his head and thanks them both.

“It’s still warm at least.” Sora mumbles.

“You both are just in time. Makoto-san, you’re next appointment should be here any minute now, and, Sora, yours should be here in the next twenty minutes.” He informs before removing the plastic lid.

“Thanks. I’ll head back.” Makoto says hoping that the sooner he gets back to his section.

He goes to lay out the supplies and as he raises his right hand to grab a box of gloves from one of the shelves’ higher cabinets, he stops mid reach, starring at the palm. He recalls the strange, numbing sensation that ran up his hand when he accidentally touched the tip of his fingers with the waiter’s earlier that day.

_What was that?_

Maybe, it was just a simple shock like static. But static shock has never made his arm feel numb for a split second. Makoto’s memory of sapphire eyes and midnight black hair flash behind his closed eyes after he blinked.

The bells at the front of the shop jingles and Makoto is relieved to see that despite his reoccupied thoughts, muscle memory aided him in setting out the basic supplies needed for his appointment.

When the curtain to his section slides open, he’s met with two figures stand in its place, and even with the quick glance at them, Makoto can tell that neither of them could be much older than himself. The man with the pink hair holds his hand up with a smile on his face as he steps into the small space, his blonde friend with the intricate braid follows. Before Makoto registers that the man with the pinkish–salmon hair has greeted him, he wracks his mind to file through his memories in an attempt to remember why he looks so familiar.

Breaking out of his reverie, Makoto shakes his head a little and his blurry vision comes back into focus. Amused purple eyes study him carefully and the hand that apparently belongs to this familiar face stops waving back and forth in front of his face.

“Are you okay?” His low, throaty voice is teasing and Makoto tries to keep his ears from turning an embarrassing shade of red. Another thing he hates just as much as his customers thinking they know everything about tattoos is being embarrassed or uncomfortable in the place he is in his element the most.

Instead of giving a verbal answer, Makoto nods his head.

“Looks like you zoned out. Are you sure?” Pink–Headed–Guy seems genuinely concerned as his eyes search Makoto’s intently.

Makoto nods his head again and offers him a smile. “Yeah, don’t worry about it…” He trails off to allow Pink–Headed–Guy to give Makoto his name so he doesn’t have to continue calling him _‘Pink–Headed–Guy’_ in his mind.

“Shigino. But I don’t really mind if you just call me Kisumi,” He grins before gripping his friend by the shoulder and pulling him close like how Sora does Sousuke, only with less smiling and mostly to annoy her brother. “And this is Kise Ryouta.”

Makoto repeats their names over and over again in his head, but still can’t figure out why the two of them seem so familiar.

He’ll have to figure it out later.

“Tachibana –“

“Makoto. Yeah, the guy at the front said you’re the one who’ll be tattooing me today,” Kise finishes and flashes Makoto a bright smile.

After nodding his head Makoto gestured for Kise to sit down on the customer chair as Kisumi followed. Once Kise’s tall frame is on the chair, and Kisumi is standing beside him, Makoto takes his place on the artists' stool and tilts his head back to fixate his focus on them.

“Is this your first tattoo, Kise-sama?” Makoto asks as he picks up his sketchbook from where he’d left it on a nearby table.

Kise responds by nodding his head enthusiastically, “From what I’ve heard, you’re very talented. A few of my coworkers have come in and have only said good things.”

Makoto’s pride swells a little. He doesn’t quite remember anyone who quite looked anything like the two of them coming into the parlor before, but he’s sure his mind will recall everything he seems to be drawing a blank on tomorrow. Just his luck. “Thank you. That means a lot to me, Kise–sama.”

Kise’s hand suddenly comes up to smack himself in the face and while Makoto is somewhat horrified, Kisumi is stifling a laugh beside him. “Please, Tachibana–san, call me Kise, or Ryouta even. Just not…that.”

When his hand falls away from his face and his eyes–which Makoto can only liken to gold–fly open again, Kise’s stare immediately locks on Makoto’s confused expression. “At work that’s all anyone’s ever shouting at me. _‘Kise–sama, Kise–sama!’_ It gets old really fast.” He rubs the right side of his face tiredly.

Makoto nods his head in understanding. No matter how many times he tells Ikuya to just call him _‘Makoto,’_ he never complies. “Makoto,” he smiles as he gestures to himself with his thumb.

Kise grins back at him gratefully.

“Do you already have a design in mind?” Makoto asks as he flips to the page on which the shark he was sketching earlier remains, still uncolored.

Kise begins to describe what tattoo he’s been thinking about and even pulls out his phone to show him a picture of a tattoo similar to what he wants. In the [picture](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/520447300685136065/), the blue eye of a [panther](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/520447300685136076/) can be seen peering back intensely from inside the shape of a diamond. Around the diamond are four circles that intersect with the diamond in two sizes, and have two rings encircling them: the inner line being thicker and the outer being thinner.

“Doesn’t this look super cool, Makoto–cchi?” Kise asks fervently.

Makoto nods his head but continues to study the design. There’s something he could do to finish this design; something simple that would just _make_ it.

“Do you want me to sketch it out and see if there’s anything you want to add or erase?” Makoto offers.

“If you think that’s a good idea, then yeah,” Kise nods with the same smile he’s worn for the majority of his visit.

Makoto puts away his sketchbook and rolls over to the bookshelf to return it to its rightful place on the shelf. He hears Kisumi and Kise talking from behind him as he rolls over to where his Microsoft Surface Book sits on the black countertop but he doesn’t hear what they’re saying due to the fact that he’s still trying to think about what’s missing on Kise’s tattoo. He opens the lid and types out his password before opening his art software, turning the laptop into a tablet, and pulling out the pen before making his way back over to his two customers.

At the sight of the tablet, Kise’s eyes go wide. “Do you want me to send the picture to your email or something?”

“If you wouldn’t mind, that’d be great,” Makoto nods as he creates a new sheet of blank paper. He rattles off his business email and opens the file when it comes through. Makoto then props the screen up on the glass work table after pushing a few things aside. “Okay, I do love this design, but there’s something that missing and I have no clue what it is. We can edit the design until it’s exactly what you want or more; unless you’re already satisfied with what it looks like now.”

“I knew something was off!” Kisumi cheers suddenly as he clenches his fist and pumping it in victory.

“Eh? Why didn’t you say anything, Kisumi–cchi?”

“Well, I did; just not directly,” Kisumi mumbles slyly.

“This may take a while, Shigino–san. If you want you can go get a coffee or something to eat and still be back before the actual inking starts,” Makoto advises.

Kisumi’s shoulders fall into a slump and he lets out his own tired sigh. “Nah, it’s fine. And didn’t I say you could just call me ‘Kisumi’ in the beginning? Not trying to be unprofessional or rude or anything, but he and I–“ he motions to Kise and back to himself, “work in the same business. So believe me when I say I’d be _so glad_ if you just called me ‘Kisumi.’”

Makoto can’t help but chuckle a little at his melodramatic display but doesn’t mind. “Sorry, Kisumi, but in all seriousness, if you want to head down the street to The Dolphin’s Cover for something. It’s only about a seven minute walk.”

Once again, Kisumi shakes his head. “Really it’s fine. We’ll probably get something to eat after this when we’re both starving.”

Makoto is about to say something in return when suddenly Ikuya is popping his head in and apologizing for interrupting.

“No worries.” Kisumi and Kise reassure in unison.

“Is something wrong, Ikuya?” Makoto questions, concerned.

“Just letting you know that Sora’s gonna give me a double forward helix because her client canceled at last minute,” Ikuya says.

“Hey, do you think they’d pierce my left ear?” Kisumi’s tone is suddenly avid and excited as he turns to Kise. “You think Amakata–sensei would flip her shit?”

Kise shrugs his shoulders, “It’s not like she’ll fire you. You know that. If anything it’ll probably benefit you if you get another one. You might even get a raise.”

For a second Makoto thinks Kise is joking. But when he takes another look at Kisumi’s face, he knows he’s not.

Kisumi manages to grab Ikuya by the wrist before he disappears behind the curtain again. “Two piercings won’t take long right?”

Ikuya, still a little bewildered, shakes his head.

“I’ll be back, Kise!” Kisumi calls as he practically drags Ikuya behind the curtain.

A brief moment of silence passes over Kise and Makoto before they turn their attention back to the screen. For about ten minutes, they work on the tattoo design as Makoto wonders what kind of job the two of them could possibly have that could cost them their jobs because of some ink and an earring or two.

After Makoto has outlined the diamond with a thinner line like the circles and added lines that start at the edge of the circles as well as outer diamond, Kise claims that it’s perfect. As Makoto studies the design on his screen, he grins a little and agrees.

“I’ll print this out in a few different sizes and we’ll see which one fits best. Where do am I putting it?”

“If you think it’ll look alright, I was thinking about having it on the back of my left shoulder.”

Makoto offers him a smile and nods his head, “I think that’ll look great, Kise.”

While Makoto prints out the three variations of sizes, Kise’s quiet for a little bit, but Makoto can feel the stare from golden irises penetrating him through his back. At the thought of Kise’s eyes, Makoto’s mind wanders again, trying to recall why he seems so familiar. He may not be interested in Kise in the sense he may want to pursue a maudlin relationship in the future, but he’s not blind. With hair that matches his eyes and a frame that is obviously not meant to be hidden with the skinny jeans he’s wearing as well as the black muscle tank that shows off the defined tendons of his arms and dips low at his sides just enough to give a glimpse of the toned stomach just beneath the fabric. Along with the fact that Kise is just a few centimeters taller than him, he also notes that despite their height difference, he’s built leaner rather than bulky.

“Kisumi’s always wanted to pierce an ear. He thinks that they’re cool, but when we started working we knew we shouldn’t push our luck with the company by getting a tattoo or a few piercings,” Kise explains as if he knew what Makoto had been thinking about since the mention of their jobs.

“Oh,” Makoto whispers more to himself than aloud for the both of them. He gathers the papers from the printer and begins to cut out each stencil. “You can come and sit on the bench since we’ll be inking your back. If you want you can go ahead and take off your shirt. I’m almost done cutting out the stencils.”

As Kise moves to sit on the end of the bench, Makoto can hear the shuffling of his shoes across the linoleum floors. When he turns back around, Kise is sat at the end of the bench, hunched over with his elbows resting on his thighs.

With stencils in hand, Makoto makes his way over to where Kise sits. “I’m going to hold up each of these in the place that you want. Since you can’t see the stencil, I’ll take a picture of each and then you can decide. Cool?”

“Cool.” Kise enthuses.

Once the three pictures are taken, Kise takes a moment to decide, and in the end, chooses the smallest design which is about eight and a half centimeters wide.

The familiar loud scratching sound of the curtain being pulled away is heard as soon as Makoto finished shaving the area in the case of any sparse hair. And as he’s about to alcohol the area again for good measure, Ikuya, Kisumi, and Sora have joined him and Kise in his small workspace.

Kisumi sits across from Kise on the bench ad brushes a few strands of salmon hair back from his left ear. “Sora–san did a great job didn’t she?”

From where Makoto stands, he can see a silver stud accompanied by a red one in the lobes of Kisumi’s ear.

“Shouldn’t you have gotten a pinkish color?” Kise asks as Makoto peels away the stencil from Kise’s shoulder.

“Sure, but red is bolder.” Kisumi shrugs as his fingers brush over the smoothness of the earring’s top.

“Don’t touch them too much,” Sora orders.

Kisumi’s hand flies away from his ear in an instant and he’s grinning sheepishly at her. “Sorry, Sora–san.”

He hears her combat boots cross the linoleum floor and in seconds she’s by his side peering around his shoulder. “That looks really cool, Mako,” Sora comments.

There’s the sound of another pair of shoes that’s the quietest of anyone’s tread he’s heard and he knows Ikuya has joined Sora by his side. “Did you come up with this design, Makoto?”

He’s momentarily shocked by the fact that Ikuya has called him by his name without any honorific, and decides he’ll ask about that later. “No, I just added a few details; Kise brought it in.”

Makoto uses Kise’s phone to take the last picture of the stencil before showing him the screen.

While Kise and Kisumi look over the print of the tattoo, Makoto turns to face Ikuya and Sora. He notices the hair around Ikuya’s right ear has been braided back and pinned to the side of his head to expose Ikuya’s ear. The skin of his ear is a little pink from irritation, but the black and white studs look fine. “Looks like that went just fine,” Makoto chuckles a little. “How was the pain?”

“Ironically, the angel bites hurt worse,” Ikuya shrugs as he gestures to the two small, black peircings on his philtrum. “So unless a couple of drunk guys come in later, we don’t have any other appointments since mine and Sora’s clients both bailed.”

“Can we hang in here?” Sora asks.

Makoto runs a hand through his hair, effectively making it stand up for a few seconds. He then realizes just how much he’s been craving a shower for the past few days. “I mean, I don’t care, but it’s gonna get hot in here with the small space, the lights, and five peoples worth of body heat.”

“That’s why we have water,” Ikuya counters before refocusing his attention over Makoto’s shoulder. “Do either of you care if Sora and I hand out while you get inked?”

“Nah, I don’t mind, Ikuya–cchi.” Kise replies cheerfully.

Makoto tries not to laugh at Ikuya’s slightly horrified expression at Kise’s nickname he’s suddenly given him. Kisumi, on the other hand, laughs. “Uh,” He clears his throat. “Then I don’t mind.”

Ikuya lets out a huff and nods his head. “We’ll be back in a second.”

While Makoto prepares the needles and gets his equipment ready, he asks Kisumi to get off the bench and sit in the chair so that Kise can lay down on his stomach, providing Makoto with the proper access and ease to Kise’s shoulder.

“We’ll probably have to take a break in an hour or so just to let you know, Kise,” Makoto informs as he pulls on some plastic gloves and stands up to retrieve the liner from his tools on the table.

He hears a hum in reply and turns on the liner. It comes to life with a buzz and begins to vibrate in his hands.

“Oh good, you’re just starting,” Ikuya mumbles from the over his shoulder. There’s the familiar sound of wheels rolling across the linoleum and Makoto suspicion is confirmed.

When he turns around with the ink in one hand and the liner in the other, Makoto notes that Ikuya and Sora have retrieved their stools from their own studios–if you can call their small areas separated by curtains “studios”.

“I’m guessing you two are going to be watching,” Makoto assumes.

Ikuya and Sora nod their heads.

He sits down on his own rolling artist’s chair and gives Kise the heads up that he’s going to start.

Four hours later and two breaks later, it’s just past midnight and Makoto has finished the panther with vibrant blue eyes. As he wraps clear plastic around Kise’s fresh tattoo while simultaneously droning out the dos and don’ts post tattoo.

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t fuck it up, Makoto,” Kisumi smiles from beside Kise which earns him a glare from the latter and a playful shove.

Makoto chuckles a little and nods his head. “Good, then you shouldn’t have any issues. Unless you have any questions, then you’re set to go home.”

Kise thanks him and he and Kisumi head out the door of the parlor after paying. “See you later, Makoto!” Kise calls as Kisumi waves his hand.

Makoto waves back with a smile on his face as they disappear into the night.

“Holy shit,” Ikuya breathes after the sound of typing has stopped.

“What is it?” Makoto asks as he leans against the counter of Ikuya’s desk.

“He left you like…triple the price of what normal customers tip you,” Ikuya says.

“Nice,” Sora comments from beside Ikuya. “You deserve it.”

Makoto appreciates the small smiles he gets from Ikuya and Sora. “Thanks,” He smiles back. “Do you guys want to close up shop a few hours early? It’s Friday.”

“What kind of question is that? Also, it’s technically Saturday,” Ikuya jokes.

Makoto lets out a chuckle, “Well, we have been going three and four hours overtime for appointments in the past few weeks.”

“Do you want to come over, Mako? It’s Ikuya’s turn to cook dinner,” Sora says as she rests her chin in the palm of her hand that’s propped up on the desk.

“It’s fine. I think I’m going to head home,” Makoto says. “Besides I’m pretty sure that if I ate any of Ikuya’s pork buns I’d end up crashing on your living room floor…again.”

Sora snorts a little and Ikuya shrugs his shoulders, “It’s not an issue.” He insists, “You could use the futon. Suzume’s been doing that sad face when she realizes you aren’t with us.”

Makoto shakes his head. “No, it’s fine, guys, really. Besides, Yuka would be lonely and I’m sure she’d be jealous to know I’d gone to see Suzume and not come home to her.”

Yuka is Makoto’s blue weimaraner. He’s had her for three years now and she’s become one of the most important things in his life. He’s trained her from puppyhood to run with him in the mornings without a leash, so every morning around eight thirty-ish she nudges him awake to run. Makoto knows that Yuka’s not purebred weimaraner, due to her blue and brown eyes, but that doesn’t bother him; if anything, he loves her more. She comforted him when he was stressed out due to the parlor’s drought in business, she was with him every step of the way when his first boyfriend cheated on him and the Yamazaki siblings were out for blood, and she’s always been there for him to pet when it’s been a long day at the parlor and he just wants to chill in bed with a book.

“Okay, next time then,” Sora settles.

Ikuya nods his head, agreeing.

Makoto smiles gratefully at the two of them before they split to gather their things from their individual workstations. When Makoto heads back to his space, he pulls back the curtain and is met with the bright white lights he’d forgotten to turn off after finishing Kise’s tattoo. After rubbing his eyes, Makoto begins to put away all of his tools and throw away what needs to be disposed of. He wipes down everything in cleaner and as he approaches the counter along the wall, he spots something shining back at him due to the light reflecting its rays on the metal surface. When he picks up the blinding object, he realizes it’s a lanyard with a single key and an ID card of some sort with Kisumi’s photo. Makoto narrows his eyes at the ID card and notes that it’s not his license, but rather an entry key to what Makoto assumes is Kisumi and Kise’s work building. The lanyard is a lavender color with curly grey writing down the center that reads: _Shigino Kisumi ~ Nova_.

Nova also sounds familiar and it doesn’t help that Makoto finds Kise and Kisumi familiar, but still can’t figure out why.

“Nova, Nova,” Makoto mumbles to himself as he continues to clean his area behind the curtain.

Once he’s done cleaning, he pockets Kisumi’s lanyard (assuming he’d be back for it tomorrow) along with his phone and keys before turning off the hot lights with a soft _click_. He pulls his curtain close and when he turns around, Ikuya is shutting down the computer in the front in the glow of his desk’s light.

As if he could sense Makoto’s eyes on him, Ikuya lifts his gaze to look directly at him. “Finally done?” He asks.

Makoto nods his head and pulls out the lavender lanyard from his pocket to show Ikuya. “Kisumi forgot his work ID here, so I’m guessing he’ll be back for it.”

Mimicking Makoto, Ikuya nods his head up and down in agreement. “Definitely. But, since it’s Saturday, we don’t open until one tomorrow. Is there anything on there we can use to contact him?”

Makoto shakes his head. “No, I already checked,” he shrugs. “Do you know what ‘Nova’ is? If it’s somewhere near my apartment, I could drop it off when Yuka and I run or something.”

Shrugging his shoulders, Ikuya purses his lips. “It sounds familiar, but I don’t know why.”

“Same.”

“It’ll probably come to one of you later,” Sora reasons as she pulls her curtain into place and makes her way to the front of the parlor.

“Probably,” Ikuya mumbles while he makes his way around his desk after turning off his the office lamp sitting next to his monitor. “I’ll text you and let you know if I think of anything.”

Makoto nods his head as they head for the glass doors. He sets the alarm system and when they’re outside, he locks the two locks to the shop. Once his keys are back in his pocket, he turns to face Ikuya and Sora to bid them goodnight.

“We’ll see you tomorrow, Mako. Sleep well,” Sora bids.

Makoto smiles in the moon’s glowing light at them. “Good night, Ikuya, Sora. You better hurry before you miss the train.”

Ikuya nods his head. “Be careful heading home.”

He hums and nods once before he watches Ikuya and Sora head down the street to the left of the parlor, waving to him over their shoulders. After they’ve been engulfed by the night, Makoto turns on his heel and heads toward his apartment as well. As he walks down the streets and comes to a fork in the streets, he’s hit with a little déjà vu when he realizes this is the same way that leads to The Dolphin’s Cove. If he were to go left, he’d be at the small café in the next five minutes.

He doesn’t know why he does it, but he heads left and when he’s met with the sights of the glass he’d admired just hours ago, he felt something jolt in his chest. Across the street, Makoto can easily tell that someone’s still cleaning at this hour of the night seeing as the lights are still on. From what he can see, it’s just the waiter (and apparent manager according to Sora) from earlier that day. After the lights are turned off, the room encased in soft moonlight, he’s sliding the barn doors from behind the counter shut and before Makoto knows it his midnight black hair disappears behind those doors.

Admittedly, Makoto kind of feels like a stalker as he stands on the empty sidewalk adjacent to the café. He doesn’t remember what Sora said his name was, but he’s the reason that Makoto is standing in front of The Dolphin’s Cove right now.

He wants to stab himself with a spork.

What the hell is he thinking?

Yes, Haruka’s eyes were bluer than the sky and sure, his ebony hair contrasted greatly with his porcelain-like skin, which only made him look even more astonishing.

Makoto lets out a sigh and rubs the palms of his hands over his eyes tiredly. He’s just exhausted. That why he’s seemingly ominously standing on the opposite side of the road, his braining replaying their interaction from earlier today.

With a slap to his forehead and after uttering few swear words, Makoto lets out an embarrassed sigh before trudging down the street from whence he came, unaware of the maroon eyes narrowing in his direction as they watch him from the shadows of The Dolphin’s Cove.

… … …

When he trudges up the cement stairs to his small apartment, it’s at least half past one. His keys jingle as he plucks them from his pocket and unlocks the door to his apartment. He jimmies the door open and doesn’t manage to shut the door, let alone get his shoes off in genkan in time before he’s on his back and being licked by Yuka.

“I missed you too, Yuka.” He chuckles through his assault.

He’ll never get tired of coming home to Yuka. No matter how many times he walks through that door after work, she’s always just as excited as she was the day before. And if he’s honest, the sense of companionship he has with Yuka makes up for how far away Sousuke, Sora, and Ikuya are.

“Did you eat all your food?” He asks as he sits up, kisses the top of her head, and glances over at one of the empty dog bowls by the sink.

As if she actually understood what he’d asked, she bobs her head up, down, and a little to the sides. Makoto can’t help but laugh at the sight and scratches behind Yuka’s left ear.

“Good girl,” he chuckles.

Eventually, Yuka lets him sit up after she deems herself petted enough for now. Makoto sets Kisumi’s lanyard down with his keys in the bowl by the door after he’s shut and locked it.

In the kitchen, he heats up some rice and leftover vegetables from the fridge. While that heats up, he heads towards his room to put down the bag containing his computer. After his bag is safely stored by his bed, Makoto ducks into the bathroom to take out his contacts, which feels _fantastic_ , before retrieving his rice from the kitchen and taking it to his room with Yuka on his heels. Once he’s back in his room, he doesn’t turn on any lights due to the light emanating from the connecting bathroom his as he tugs off the red flannel, pulls his black shirt by the collar over his head and replaces it with a comfortable army green t shirt he’s had for years. His jeans are pushed down to his ankles and kicked off soon after. After he’s pulled on a pair of black, cotton shorts, Makoto falls into bed with a long sigh only to revel in the whole of the queen-sized bed for a few short seconds before being joined by Yuka.

He can’t help but chuckle as she takes her half of the bed, sprawling out as far as he long legs can reach. Makoto laughs as she rolls over to rest her head on his stomach. Her blue and brown eyes shift up to look at him, feigning pitifulness. Makoto knows all too well what this look really entails.

_Can I have some of you rice, Makotooooo?????_

It’s the oldest trick in history, but Makoto shakes his head and sits up to pick up the warm bowl from the small tables acting as a makeshift nightstand. Her ears twitch and she shifts to lay on her stomach with her head perked up as her nose wiggles cutely in an attempt to smell more of the rice and vegetables.

“Fine, you can have a little,” Makoto relents as he plucks clumps of rice from the bowl and offers them to her.

Yuka eagerly ate every little clump she was given and when Makoto begins to eat the rest with his chopsticks, she thanks by resuming her earlier position by laying sprawled out and resting her head on his stomach.

“This is nice and all, but now I have to set the computer somewhere else,” Makoto playfully complains to his dog.

She lets out a long sigh and yawns as if to say: _I’m not moving and you know it._

“Why did I spoil you so much?” Makoto grumbles lightheartedly.

He plucks his computer from his bag and sets it beside him so he can finish eating dinner. True he’s tired, but there’s one thing he’s going to look up so it will stop bothering him. After eating the last bite of rice, Makoto sets the bowl back on the table and opens his laptop. He leans back far enough so that he can rest it on his chest rather than his stomach like he normally does, but _someone’s_ head is there so this will have to do for a quick search of the internet.

Just as he’s done logging in and his mouse is hovering over the google chrome, his phone buzzes and he notices that it’s a text from Ikuya. He opens the text and his eyes squint a little at the screen before turning down the brightness.

**_[Ikuya]:_ **

_found where kisumi and kise work_

Along with this text is a location and a picture of a magazine cover with Kise plastered on it. Makoto narrows his eyes to study the picture (actually, he can’t really see anything). He sits up abruptly, snatches his glasses off the table from beside his empty bowl and shoves them onto his face. Ignoring Yuka’s questioning look, he uses his thumbs to zoom in on the picture Ikuya sent him.

In this specific picture, Makoto notes that the characters that spell out the word ‘Nova’ appear to be painted in graffiti type font on an exposed brick wall. From the flash that was used, Makoto assumes that this shoot was either early in the morning or late at night, or it was added for effect. Kise’s profile in on display for this photo and the photographer has him positioned with his body facing forward but his head is turned. Since he’s looking off to the side, Makoto can only see one gold iris which looks just as vibrant as it had earlier, leaving Makoto to come to the conclusion that Kise’s eyes aren’t photoshopped in any way. But the eyeliner that has been applied on the top lid and under his eye bring out the gold color. His lips are parted just slightly and from how prominent his jawline is on the cover, Makoto can tell that his head is slightly reclined back. Judging by the scarf that is wrapped around his neck, Makoto assumes that Kise must have done this shoot during what is supposed to be winter or fall. Along with the maroon scarf hugging his neck, the collar to a charcoal grey jean jacket can be seen contrasting with the dark red. Makoto notes the black sweater that can be seen under Kise’s left forearm as it reaches across his body to grip the right arms of the jacket’s cloth. The last thing Makoto notes is the dark denim jeans that he thinks are the same ones from earlier today. But he could be wrong. Most jeans do look the same he guesses.

“So he’s a model for Nova,” Makoto mumbles to himself.

**_:[Makoto]_ **

_Did it really bother you that much too?_

**_[Ikuya]:_ **

_it was the combined effort of the two  
of us_

Makoto laughs a little.

**_:[Makoto]_ **

_But mostly her._

It takes a few seconds for Ikuya to respond, and Makoto _is_ tired, but he doesn’t mind.

**_[Ikuya]:_ **

_she’s convinced that kisumi guy liked  
 me_

**_:[Makoto]_ **

_Well while I was tattooing Kise you two_  
were _talking a lot. You don’t normally_  
_talk that much and he was smiling a lot._  
_He could’ve._

**_[Ikuya]:_ **

_you’re siding with her_

**_:[Makoto]_ **

_WHAT?? I NEVER SAID THAT._

**_[Ikuya]:_ **

_i’m just joking._

**_:[Makoto]_ **

_Wait._

_Do you like him???_

**_[Ikuya]:_ **

_why am i having this conversation twice_

_no_

**_:[Makoto]_ **

_Are you sure?_

**_[Ikuya]:_ **

_yes_

**_:[Makoto]_ **

_But you can admit that he was cute  
right?_

**_[Ikuya]:_ **

_do you really want to play this game with  
me_

**_:[Makoto]_ **

_All you have to do is admit that he liked  
you Ikuya_

_Is that so hard??_

**_[Ikuya]:_ **

_who’s this blue-eyed waiter_

**_:[Makoto]_ **

_Eh?_

**_[Ikuya]:_ **

_blackmail.jpg_

**_:[Makoto]_ **

_WHERE DID YOU GET THIS??????  
????????????_

**_[Ikuya]:_ **

_sousuke accidentally took it when we  
almost lost our streak_

_spill._

**_:[Makoto]_ **

_Okay, okay you win. Good night.  
Delete that._

**_[Ikuya]:_ **

_fine_

Though he told Ikuya good night, Makoto can’t stop looking at the accidental snapchat Sousuke took of him and Haru. He knows Sousuke is bad with photos in the first place, but it’s one of the few pictures that aren’t that bad. Sure it’s blurry, and off-center, but it’s not like Sousuke was trying to take this picture. However, Makoto notices how wide his smile is and the slight shock on Haruka’s face that he didn’t notice at the moment.

 _Cute,_ his mind whispers to him.

For a second time that night, Makoto wants to stab himself with a spork.


End file.
